


I perceive one picking me out by secret and divine signs

by Pollys_hymnia



Series: Faint Indirections [2]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Anal Sex, And Neither do the Characters, Dreams and Nightmares, M/M, Memories of Cuiviénen, More of Ulmo's Secret Meddlings, Spells & Enchantments, The Author Still Regrets Nothing, Walks In The Woods
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-13
Updated: 2019-02-13
Packaged: 2019-10-27 04:17:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17759615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pollys_hymnia/pseuds/Pollys_hymnia
Summary: Conclusion of 'Among the men and women the multitude,' Turgon and Thingol profess their feelings for each other.





	I perceive one picking me out by secret and divine signs

**Author's Note:**

> Title is another line from Walt Whitman's Leaves of Grass

The feast lasted long into the night but slowly broke up some time after midnight.  When almost everyone else had left, Turgon and Thingol departed into the forest.  They walked together at a leisurely pace and made once more for the pool with the waterfall.  There they sat side by side and listened to the water’s song as it tumbled over and over the stone.  “Did you have fun tonight?” Thingol asked at last.

“Yes, it was an excellent feast, thank you.  And you are… an amazing dancer, though amazing is too poor a word.”

“I don’t dance very often anymore but I still enjoy it.”

“You should dance more often.”

“Some would say it does not befit a king to dance quite so much.”

“You are not just any king,” Turgon said wholeheartedly.

Thingol grinned, “No, perhaps not.  And not just any king has the music of Daeron to inspire him.  You know I heard a rumor about him today regarding your cousin Finrod.”

“Ah.”

Thingol faced Turgon and searched his eyes, “Oh I see it’s true then? Well I wish them well, I had hoped on a time perhaps Luthien would love Daeron as he loved her but it seems that will never be so.  And Finrod deserves happiness as well.”

“Finrod likes musicians.”

“Is that so? Well, I cannot blame him there, though that is not exactly my taste.”

“What is your taste?” Turgon had almost grown accustomed to saying things he would never have said otherwise in Thingol’s presence, and while he faintly felt his cheeks flush to having asked the question, the response made them positively rosy.

Thingol looked again into Turgon’s eyes and smiled, “My taste? Well, I suppose tall, dark hair, handsome, intellectual, hmmm, and I have always liked blue eyes,” he laughed a little, “I’m sorry maybe the wine is making me a bit forward.”

“OH no it’s fine—wait handsome?”

“Well you are very handsome.”

“OH” Turgon put his hands to his cheeks in an attempt to stop their flushing.

“I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, I’m sorry.”

“No, no it’s fine I just wasn’t expecting that though I can’t say I didn’t hope,” Turgon admitted.

“No?  You are wise, perhaps far-seeing, did you not see this in my heart, or in yours?  As I said, you make me feel young again.”

Turgon cleared his throat, “But what about…”

“The Queen?  We had a long talk last night.  Sometimes I think it is a danger for elves and Ainur to live so closely together.  You have nothing to fear on her account.  My life is as it is, and will continue to be, but if I know my own mind now I will also follow my heart.  At least as much as I am able.”

There were many questions Turgon wanted to ask but his tongue was stilled.  Instead he reached forward and touched ever-so-gently a strand of Thingol’s hair.  It was as soft and silken as he had imagined and he gently glided the tips of his fingers down its length.  Thingol shivered and not from the cold.  He leaned forward expectantly and Turgon inclined his head forward to meet him.  They were almost the same height, Thingol maybe a finger’s width taller than Turgon.  Neither had to bow his head for their lips to meet and they came together half way. 

Turgon’s lips were warm and full and he tasted like mint and wine as his mouth opened and Thingol slid his tongue inside.  They both moaned softly into each other and Turgon drew Thingol closer.  The desire he had so carefully been denying himself rose now and as he drew Thingol even closer and leaned into him pushing him easily against the rocky arm. His body took over where his mind failed.  It had been too long.

Thingol took him willingly into his arms, between his legs.  He too felt a desire he had long since thought burnt out.  Turgon’s fingers were unbuttoning his coat now and had already pushed his cloak aside.  Thingol began to pull at the laces of Turgon’s tunic and wished he had changed into something simpler.  A button leapt off Thingol’s coat and plunked into the pool from Turgon’s eagerness.  The next thing Thingol heard was the clatter of glass on stone and he remembered why he had worn a coat with pockets. 

Turgon’s teeth sank down onto Thingol’s neck and he had taken no notice of either.  Turgon succeeded in freeing Thingol of his coat and grunted in dissatisfaction that he had a shirt on underneath, “Must you wear so many clothes.”

“For some reason it’s no longer considered proper to go about naked.  Here, let me help.”

Turgon relented and sat up to allow Thingol room to work.  Thingol quickly relieved himself of his remaining clothes, “But perhaps we can revive again the customs of Cuiviénen.”

Turgon also removed the rest of his clothes and bent to remove his boots.  He noticed a little glass vial next to the pile of Thingol’s cloak and picked it up questioningly.  He sat up and examined it, realization dawning on him, “You planned--?”

“I hoped, and I came prepared.” Thingol placed his hand over Turgon’s and closed Turgon’s fingers around the vial meaningfully. He turned his piercing gray eyes on Turgon, “Would you make love to me, Turukáno?”

Turgon did not so much answer yes with his mouth as with his tongue as he pushed it into Thingol’s mouth and pressed him down again onto the bench, climbing again between his legs.  If he was half hard before, it was not long before he was fully hard as he rubbed himself insistently against Thingol.  Turgon shifted himself slightly and brought their erections into alignment.  Thingol’s whole body shook as the pleasure sparked between them.  His head tipped back and he took a few deep breaths.  Turgon began to stroke his length and listened intently at each small moan he caused to escape from Thingol’s lips.  Thingol reached down and began to stroke Turgon at the pace he had established and Turgon moaned softly in turn.

Turgon propped himself up with one arm and withdrew his hand to uncork the vial of oil.  Turgon coated his fingers with the slippery liquid.  Thingol widened his legs expectantly, his cock hard and flushed against his belly.  Turgon gently spread some oil to Thingol’s rim, circling the tip of his index finger teasingly around him before pushing inside.  Turgon felt the muscle tighten around him and then relax as he pushed deeper and curled ever-so-slightly.  Thingol gasped as Turgon first teased with the tip of his finger then made a small circle.  Turgon smiled to himself, it had been a very long time since he had done this and was pleased he was able to elicit such a response. “Turukáno please,” Thingol huffed as he began to buck his hips against Turgon’s finger. 

Turgon worked another finger into him, “Soon,” he reassured, and then added another.  Three fingers slid wetly into and out of Thingol, “I can feel you opening for me, do you want a fourth?”

Thingol didn’t look very coherent anymore, “I want you,” he managed.

Turgon withdrew his hand, Thingol opened his mouth to protest but broke off into a deep moan as Turgon slid his cock inside him.  “Yes, like that” Thingol breathed and raised his hips up to meet him.

Turgon pushed himself all the way into Thingol and then began to rock, slowly at first, into him.  “You feel amazing,” Thingol would have added ‘but that is too poor a word for it’ but could no longer manage. Instead he placed his hands on Turgon’s hips and tried to pull him deeper inside himself.

Turgon was breathing hard, he thrusted into Thingol faster, letting himself be guided by Thingol’s hands, curling Thingol’s hips up and in.  He did not want this to end but wasn’t certain how long he could last. Thingol was hot and tight around him and the pleasure of each thrust nearly overwhelmed his senses.  Still, he continued to thrust.  Half formed words were rising from Thingol’s throat and Turgon thought he almost recognized a few but the language was not Sindarin nor was it truly Quenya.  Its sounds were simple, as though those spoken in wonder upon first seeing the world.  Turgon could see in his mind the impossibly deep blue waters of Cuiviénen and Thingol lying beside it gazing up at the sky.  But he was gazing up at Turgon now instead.

Turgon needn’t have worried about how long he could last as Thingol came with a cry and spilled himself hot and sticky onto Turgon’s chest.   Thingol looked so bright, so beautiful, so young.  Turgon felt a great wave overtake him and the world dimmed as he orgasmed deep inside Thingol.  Turgon collapsed forward onto Thingol’s chest, heedless of the mess and caught his breath.  Thingol ran his hand through Turgon’s damp hair and smiled.  “Thank you,” he said simply.

“Mmm,” Turgon propped himself up again and captured Thingol’s lips in a kiss.  Turgon kissed him languidly and nibbled his bottom lip then slid his tongue into Thingol’s mouth again and massaged his tongue.  He withdrew and bent lower to kiss his neck and his shoulder. 

“Careful you’ll get me excited again,” Thingol laughed.

“I hope so,” Turgon replied.

“There is a terrible bulge of rock poking my back though, perhaps we should take our pursuits… elsewhere?”

Turgon pulled back again and looked down at their chests and at Thingol’s tangled hair, “We must look a mess, but you at least are a beautiful mess.”

“Oh? Perhaps,” he glanced over at the pool, “we should probably wash ourselves too.”

Turgon sat up fully and laughed more deeply than he had for as long as he could remember, “You’re probably right, we must look terribly _debauched_.” 

Thingol grinned and laughed with him, “I can’t think what people would say. But I don’t care, I feel too good.”

Turgon flashed him a bright smile and then leapt into the pool, he yelped only a little at its coolness.  Thingol promptly followed him in, diving deep below the surface.  When he surfaced he shook a thousand shining droplets of water from his long silver hair and Turgon watched in wonder.  The stars had come down after all.  He reached out and caught Thingol in a deep kiss. 

 

They did not return the next day until after dawn.  When Turgon walked into his room he found Finrod sitting in a chair expectantly, “And where were you last night?”

Turgon was glowing, and could not hide his jubilation from his cousin, “Following my heart.”

He could not know—nor did he want to—what the future would bring, or what duty would call him to.  Whatever strange, unforeseen, and unavoidable path he would soon be obliged to take, Turgon only knew that for a moment at least he was truly happy and no longer alone.

**Author's Note:**

> This fic got away from me but I love it, thank Ulmo. Also I'm on tumblr as stareyenight, come say hi!


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